


The Gathering Dark

by Evenmoor



Series: Methos, Master of the Force [12]
Category: Firefly, Highlander - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Cameos, Force Visions, Gen, Pre-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24406060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenmoor/pseuds/Evenmoor
Summary: Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas has been having Force-granted visions of a coming war. The Republic must be prepared if it is to survive, so Sifo-Dyas pays a visit to the Archives to seek inspiration. Things do not go the way he expects.
Series: Methos, Master of the Force [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/571000
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	The Gathering Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cyberbutterfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberbutterfly/gifts).



> If you haven't read ["The Missing Librarian"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526761/chapters/23834607), the important thing to know is that Methos, before returning to the Jedi Temple under his own name in the company of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his young apprentice, was a member of the Order while in disguise and under the name "Ben-Ghi Ness."

Sifo-Dyas entered the archives clutching his steaming cup of caf like a life ring thrown to a drowning man. His sleep had been troubled again, haunted by dreams _(Dreams? Ha. Visions.)_ of war, of men and ships and death and chaos and all of it choked in an overwhelming Darkness. 

All his life, he’d been hounded by visions of the might-be, may-be, and never-will-be. As a youngling and later as a padawan, he’d been assured that he’d grow to better control them in time. Instead, they’d increased in strength as the years passed, sneaking up on him during Council meetings, at meals, passing people in the hallway…

“May I assist you, Master Sifo-Dyas?” A familiar voice brought him back to the present. Jocasta Nu, though relatively new to her position as head librarian, exuded a confidence and clarity of purpose that Sifo-Dyas envied more and more often in these darkening days.

“N-no, but thank you f-for your concern,” he replied, trying not to grimace at his stuttering. Jocasta, of course, ignored the curse upon his tongue, bless her heart.

“Well, if you have need of me, I’ll be trying to put a leash on my latest ‘assistant.’ Force help me, but I don’t know what Master Yoda was thinking with this one!” Despite the harsh words, her tone certainly indicated a level of fondness that she usually reserved for when she spoke of or to Dooku. _(“Now there is a man who appreciates knowledge!” she’d said on more than one occasion.)_

Sifo-Dyas managed a quick smile before heading towards one of the research stations. He set down his caf after a long sip, and his fingers paused over the keys as he pondered his next course of action. 

What the Republic needed to survive was an army to fight the coming Darkness. But armies didn’t just appear out of thin air. 

_Unless they did._

Not droids, no. Droids, while they had their uses, were largely defined by their programming, lines of code written by some indifferent programmer. He didn’t want the Republic defended by unfeeling calculating machines. 

_Clones. Purpose-grown for war, yes, but_ **_men_ ** _, not machines… Yes._

But he would have to find somewhere with the facilities, somewhere that wouldn’t be constrained by Republic law regarding the mass-cloning of sapient beings...

“For a man so obsessed with ‘focus on the here-and-now,’ you certainly seem to be a bit too interested in ancient prophecies!” The strange voice shattered his focus. Sifo-Dyas looked up from his terminal, about to reprimand the impudence of someone addressing a member of the Council in such a tone, when a second, much more familiar voice answered the first.

“You’re an archivist. Surely you find such things of interest!” The tall, imposing form of Dooku’s young padawan (or had he already been knighted? Sifo-Dyas had trouble keeping track of these things.). Qui-Gon Jinn stood with his arms crossed, facing another Jedi that Sifo-Dyas didn’t know. 

The other Jedi, whoever he was, gave Qui-Gon a distinctly unimpressed look. 

“Only as historical curiosities. I certainly don’t place any weight on someone’s description of a vision that took place a thousand years ago! As Master Yoda is always so fond of saying, ‘Always in motion, the future is’! How can someone look a thousand years into the future and predict what will happen with any accuracy whatsoever?” 

Sifo-Dyas frowned despite himself, certain that this stranger was wrong, but young Qui-Gon beat him to the punch.

“Surely we must always put our trust in the Force, and it will not lead us astray.”

Ah, that was a sentiment Sifo-Dyas could support whole-heartedly.

“I believe that Qui-Gon has the b-b-better of you in this a-a-argument,” he interjected, a bit more archly than he intended. 

The two Jedi turned towards him, surprise and no small bit of embarrassment writ broadly on Qui-Gon’s face, though his conversation partner seemed rather more inscrutable.

“I apologize for the interruption, Master Sifo-Dyas.” Dooku’s apprentice bowed contritely. “We meant no offense.”

“Perhaps not, though I th-th-think Jocasta Nu might have a thing or two to say about l-loud arguments in her archives.” Especially since the topic hit a bit close to home for Sifo-Dyas. The master turned his gaze on the other Jedi, the one he didn’t know. A near-human of unremarkable height and angular features, he had a gray cast to his skin and a long tail of white hair trailing over his shoulder. His flat, unmelodic accent spoke of an origin on the Outer Rim, contrasting harshly with the Core-influenced tones to Qui-Gon’s voice. 

“Madame Nu follows a long and storied tradition of librarians with firm opinions on the volume of speaking voices,” the stranger said sardonically, clearly not apologetic.

Sifo-Dyas’s frown deepened.

“Who are you? I don’t b-believe we’ve met.”

“Ben-Ghi Ness, assistant archivist.”

Sifo-Dyas inhaled sharply as he fell into the deep well of the other Jedi’s brilliant blue eyes and everything around him went dark.

_He stood in a vast, impenetrable void. All he could see at first was himself, though no light source was apparent. Nor did he appear to be standing on any visible surface._

_“Pick it up.”_

_Sifo-Dyas whirled around to see Ben-Ghi Ness standing over a human woman collapsed on the ground. A metal blade lay discarded nearby, while Ness openly threatened her with one of his own. Ness stood with the hood of his cloak up, his face hidden in shadow. The woman gazed up at Ness, an expression of despair wrought clearly for all to see._

_“Who the hell are you?” she asked, though the challenge in her voice was clearly a front._

_“A man who was born long before the age of chivalry. Pick it up.”_

_Obviously terrified, the woman struggled to her feet and brought her sword to bear, but her opponent patently outmatched her. Sifo-Dyas tried to call out, to intervene somehow, even knowing that this was a vision and not reality, but he felt mired in place and his voice stuck in his throat. Abruptly, the figures were snatched away from his sight._

_“Don’t do this!” a man shouted._

_“Like you said,” replied the voice of Ness in a harsh, unmerciful tone, “I go with_ **_the winner_** _.”_

_Then Ness’s voice again, from the opposite direction this time._

_“I am not your brother!” A denial full of pain and grief._

_“How can you do this? How can you go against everything you are?” A new voice, colored by genuine confusion._

_“You don’t know anything about me!”_

_Sifo-Dyas tried to pierce the darkness, tried to see, but to no avail. Then he heard a female voice, broken and barely audible._

_“Two by two, hands of blue…”_

_Abruptly, Ben-Ghi Ness appeared again, this time cutting down a pair of men who were apparently unarmed, the only notable thing about them their blue-gloved hands._

_“Miranda…” The same female voice, just a breath this time._

_Ness now fought a new figure, this wearing a mishmash of different armor and wielding what looked like a Mandalorian sword, a beskad. The fight was fierce, but for some reason Ness seemed to be at a disadvantage. Shadowy walls hemmed the pair in, limiting his movement. Then Ness lost his lightsaber, and it clattered across the unseen floor, and his opponent had his beskad at his neck._

_“They say you’re Death. They worship you. Think you are holy ground. Let’s test that.”_

_The other figure struck at Ness’s neck, but the whole scene dissolved into black smoke before the blow could hit home._

_A rhythmic pounding filled Sifo-Dyas’s skull, four masked men riding on the backs of beasts that resembled short-eared, long-faced fathiers. The image remained only a moment before being replaced by that of Ben-Ghi Ness marching at the head of a column of men in a wide assortment of armor from all corners of the galaxy. Directly behind him was one wearing Mandalorian gear, face hidden by the distinctive T-visor._

_“Regimes rise and fall all the time; after the hundredth one, I stopped concerning myself with the details." Ness’s voice came from somewhere in the darkness._

_"Is that why you spent so long watching the Sith's plan unfold and did nothing?" Sifo-Dyas’s eyes widened as he recognized the voice of young Qui-Gon, though it sounded rougher, aged. And more than a little accusatory._

_“I had brothers once-”_

_“Good soldiers-”_

_“I lost everything and everyone I ever knew-”_

_“Two by two-”_

_“-follow orders-”_

_“Come on, you miserable old bastard!”_

_“-lifetimes since I’ve seen you-”_

_"This war is killing everyone- especially the ones left alive.”_

_“Well, I was going somewhere. Then you showed up-”_

_The voices overlapped, quickly becoming little more than an unintelligible cacophony. The volume rose to intolerable levels, and Sifo-Dyas clapped his hands uselessly against his ears as if to block out something that was already inside his head._

“Master Sifo-Dyas?”

His eyes snapped open. Young Qui-Gon was looking down at him in concern. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Sifo-Dyas’s gaze shot around as he tried to reorient himself. The Archives. He was in the Archives. Qui-Gon’s conversation partner… Ben-Ghi Ness… 

The man was nowhere to be seen. 

“Qui-Gon-” Sifo-Dyas choked out. 

“You’re back with us,” the other Jedi said in relief. “Knight Ness has gone for Madame Nu.”

“N-n-no, that’s quite alright, I’m fine,” Sifo-Dyas protested, lurching to his feet. In his haste, he accidentally knocked over the forgotten cup of caf, spilling its contents over the table and onto the floor. 

Even as Qui-Gon reached out to steady him, Sifo-Dyas threw up a hand to block him, flinching away from his old friend’s padawan. 

“I’m _f-f-fine_!” he snapped. 

Qui-Gon’s eyes widened ever so slightly in either hurt or surprise, but Sifo-Dyas was already stumbling out of the Archives as quickly as he could. 

As he all but careened through the halls, echoes chased behind him in his wake, hounded him from all sides. So many voices, each one crying to be heard. It was too much. 

Finally, he reached his rooms. Sealing the door and locking it, he finally fell to the floor with his back to the wall and rested his head against his knees. 

_Trust in the Force._

He concentrated on taking in one breath. Then another. Then another. With each breath, he released his turmoil into the Force. Slowly, his heart stopped pounding in his chest. The voices faded. 

But he knew they would never be far. 

He felt a tentative touch on his mind. Master Yoda himself was outside, a sharp tang of concern almost a physical taste on Sifo-Dyas’s tongue. Sifo-Dyas’s jaw tightened; _now_ the Grandmaster was worried? The other members of the Council rarely listened to anything Sifo-Dyas said. They may smile and nod sagely while he was present, but then either did nothing or clucked their tongues behind his back, whispering that he was losing his faculties. 

So he threw up a firm mental barrier against Master Yoda. The ancient Jedi could have broken through it, of course; he was Grandmaster of the Order for good reason. But Yoda got the message and backed off, though he did not lose the sense of concern. 

Sifo-Dyas ignored him and settled into a cross-legged position on the floor with his back still to the wall. He needed to center himself to interpret this latest vision. Did Ben-Ghi Ness have any connection to the war he had foreseen? Were the images shown to him literal or metaphorical? The meaning of visions was not always obvious or straightforward, and the Force grew ever more clouded with each passing year.

But unless Ness proved to be a direct threat, Sifo-Dyas resolved to keep his focus on his plans to save the Republic. 

If the Jedi Council would not listen, then he’d just have to do it on his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Sifo-Dyas's vision features dialogue from Highlander Episode 4.10, "Chivalry," and 5.13, "Revelation 6:8," Firefly and Serenity, as well as a number of other fics in the "Immortal in Jedi Robes" series by myself and Cyberbutterfly. 
> 
> Regarding the vision: Sifo-Dyas is seeing Methos in the vision in his guise of Ben-Ghi Ness, regardless of how Methos _actually_ looked at the various points in time shown by the vision.


End file.
